


hypocrites building blanket forts

by nowhere_blake



Series: codas for the damned and the brokenhearted [7]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Episode: s12e20 Twigs and Twine and Tasha Banes, Established Relationship, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M, Pillow & Blanket Forts, Sibling Incest, cute weecest things, it's sort of fluffy but it's not
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-25
Updated: 2020-08-25
Packaged: 2021-03-06 16:33:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 952
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26111935
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nowhere_blake/pseuds/nowhere_blake
Summary: Seeing Max lose his sister makes Dean want to throw up. Or perhaps break things.To say he can relate, would be an understatement. And there it is, the little montage of all the times Sam died or almost died, right in front of his eyes, like a spoiler-filled trailer for a bad action movie. What he needs right now is to just get Sam in the car and take them the hell away from here.Coda to 12x20 Twigs and Twine and Tasha Banes.
Relationships: Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester
Series: codas for the damned and the brokenhearted [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1883758
Comments: 6
Kudos: 55





	hypocrites building blanket forts

Seeing Max lose his sister makes Dean want to throw up. Or perhaps break things. He wants to be there for the kid - he can relate, can honestly use the line “I know how you feel” - but as soon as Max gives them the okay to take off, he hauls Sam into the car and drives. The faster they get home, the sooner he can hold Sam, pin him against the bed, push him up against a door - it doesn’t matter, as long as he gets to touch, as long as he gets to make sure he’s alive, brush his fingers along his wrists to find his pulse.

He tries not to think of Cold Oak, of Sam falling into a hole in the ground, of the sound of a shotgun loud in a motel room.

Getting on the highway relaxes him a little. The endless roads feel like home, and in the anonymity of the speed and the dark, he leans across, yanks Sam close and kisses him hard. Sam flails and protests for a moment, but then gives in and lets him. He kisses back then, just as desperate for it, it turns out, like licking into Dean’s mouth is the only way to truly make sure he’s alive. That they aren’t the ones who lost each other. Not this time.

Dean bites, their teeth knock together. He wants to breathe Sam in, swallow him whole, hide him inside of himself somehow, under his skin, somewhere no one can find him, nothing can ever hurt him. A cage, he thinks bitterly, and kisses harder. A blanket fort, perhaps.

They used to do that a lot when they were kids, a saving grace for children stuck in a motel room with nothing to do, no toys to play with. Oh, the forts they built! Sam ever the creative mastermind, and Dean a damn talented architect, perfectly executing every one of Sam’s increasingly ambitious ideas. Towering structures held up by chairs, secret tunnels that would lead from the kitchen to the bathroom, architectural masterpieces sometimes so complex, they encompassed the whole room underneath their blanket-ceilings. They created entire worlds for themselves to get lost in, to be safe in, to be alone in, and they only needed blankets, a few pillows and their imagination. Just for a rainy afternoon, or a sleepy Sunday morning, they’d shut out the outside world, so they could exist in their own. Just the two of them.

Dean wishes he could replicate the illusion of safety a blanket fort gives somehow, he wishes he could ward it with every symbol and sigil he knows, even if just for one night, for a single minute. He wishes he could cut out stars and hang them from the ceilings, lie on his back, with Sam’s hand in his, pointing out constellations they just invented from paper and string.

He bites at Sam’s bottom lip again, but eventually he does have to look at the road, so he breaks their kiss, pulls away. The distance hurts, the fresh air burns his lungs, he misses Sam already.

Sam quietly admonishes him, ‘I thought we agreed kissing was against road safety rules,’ but there is no bite to it, and he stays close to him, closer than he normally would. Dean can feel his warmth by his side. The fact that he’s within touching distance makes Dean’s grip relax on the steering wheel.

Sam assures him he did the right thing back there, but there is the bile in his throat, the guilt weighing heavy on his heart, both saying otherwise. If someone would have tried to stop him whenever  _ he _ was doing desperate things to save Sam’s life? He would have killed them. Not a moment of hesitation. Max could have had his sister back - a version of her at least - if not for Dean. He feels like the biggest fucking hypocrite in the world.

‘Who am I to stop him?’

And Sam nods, because of course he gets that - it’s not like he hasn’t done the same for Dean, wouldn’t still.

‘Well, he’s strong. He’ll be alright,’ Sam says, ever the optimist whenever it’s not about himself.

Dean grimaces, focuses on the lines of the road so he doesn’t see Sam’s lifeless body in front of him.

‘Yeah, I’m not so sure,’ he grumbles out.

They don’t talk after that, but the silence is welcome. It’s theirs. The two of them on the road, together: it’s a special kind of silence. Dean just drives and he wishes - not for the first time - for the road to never end, for the two of them to stay here, in their car, in their silence, where nothing can get to them, where time seems to stand still. Their own little blanket fort.

Eventually Sam falls asleep, the rumbling of the engine his lullaby, and Dean listens to his breathing, his quiet snores, watches as his long eyelashes flutter against his skin, the way the occasional oncoming car’s headlights paint long shadows on his face.

He wants this moment to loop back on itself and never end, wants to carve it into his heart, relive it a hundred times and more. The world survived without them before, so couldn’t they just stay here? Drive until they run out of road?

He shakes his head, tears his eyes away from Sam. He takes his phone out to distract himself, decides to listen to his voicemails before he gets too lost in this impossible fantasy. He feels guilty about how grateful he is it wasn’t Sam who died tonight. But it’s just how life goes. People die and blanket forts fall down. And you drive on.

**Author's Note:**

> kudos and comments are love <3 more of these coda ficlets are in the works, so feel free to subscribe if you liked it :) find me on tumblr [@princessconsuelapark](https://princessconsuelapark.tumblr.com) 💕
> 
> buy me a [coffee](https://www.buymeacoffee.com/nowhereblake) if you feel like ☕


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